The Seeds of House Forrester
by Sullyhogs1
Summary: The story of how Gregor Forrester became Lord Galbart Glover's squire during Robert's Rebellion, and how he gained the favor of many key individuals during that time period.
1. A Test of Strength

**The Seeds of House Forrester: A Test of Strength**

Talks of rebellion and civil war were beginning to spread throughout the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros when Lord Robert Baratheon's wife-to-be, Lyanna Stark, was kidnapped by the son of the Mad King, Prince Rhaegar Targaryen. However, the spark caused by the execution of Lyanna's father and eldest brother, Rickard and Brandon, was what truly led the Great Lords to rally their banners for war against King Aerys and his royal house. Among these important leaders was the newly-appointed Lord of Winterfell, Eddard "Ned" Stark, who held Robert as his closest and dearest friend. Ned rode out with Robert when the war started, and with the help of their ally and foster father, Jon Arryn, the two had amassed a mighty army, joined by Great Houses and banners, alike. One of these banners, which had been sworn to House Stark for many years, was that of Lord Galbart Glover's, who was a good friend of Ned's father and a supporter of Robert's noble cause. Galbart was a man in his late thirties, and even in the middle age that approached him, he was a very healthy and able man, one certainly fit enough to take part in a war. It was on the day that Lord Galbart and his forces arrived at the Stark/Baratheon encampment that he received word of a young, hopeful squire that desired to be appointed to him, which intrigued the lord. The boy, who was called Gregor Forrester, was no short of nineteen-years-old; but claimed he'd been training for this day for many years under his father's tutelage. The boy, who sported wears with Forrester armor, approached Galbart just before he was about to report to his commanding officers, introducing himself quickly as he hoped to gain the good lord's attention.

"A Forrester, eh?" Galbart said as he stroked his beard. "Can't say I haven't heard of them, lad. Your lot hold the great ironwood trees, correct?"

"Yes, milord. Finest manufacturers in the North, according to my father," promoted Gregor, as he walked to Lord Stark's tent alongside Galbart.

"Lord Thorren's a smart man, Gregor. Forrester's not a young house, but rather one that deserves more attention, and he's got every right to make it more noticeable," Lord Glover explained. "But what makes you so useful?"

"Well sir, my father's getting old. He said himself that he'd be dead in a couple of years," the boy explained. "And he told me that his biggest mistake was not following the Starks in their stead, like our ancestors did. He trained me, my lord. Made me acceptable by the standards of great bannermen like yourself. He gave me a sword and training from great masters of combat, and brought upon me the lessons of old, or at least as much as I could handle. By all that, I mean to say that we both believe I'm able and prepared to fight and serve under you, sir."

"Hmmm… we'll see about that," the lord laughed as he pulled back the tarp of Lord Stark's great tent, only to see three men inside: Ned Stark, Robert Baratheon, and Jon Arryn. Ned and Robert were both in their early twenties, which wasn't much older than Gregor, while Jon looked to be about the same age as Lord Glover. The three leaders of the Rebellion were looking at a tactical map of the terrain, trying to think of a strategy to use against the Targaryen forces, which were separated from the rebel encampment by a dense forest. When Galbart and Gregor entered the tent, the cold, focused look in Ned's eyes changed to a more content and relaxed one. The young lord sported a mildly-impressive brown beard, looking like his father to an extent.

"Dammit, Galbart, I knew you'd come!" Ned laughed with a few tears in his eyes as he rushed over his father's old friend and hugged him. Since this was the first time that Galbart had seen Ned after the death of his father, Lord Rickard Stark, Lord Glover sympathetically returned the younger lord's embrace. "It's good to see you, once again."

"I'm sorry about your father and brother, son," he proclaimed as he let go. "Rickard was a dear friend, as you know, and Brandon was a good son, just like you. And poor Lyanna! She must be frightened, I'll warrant. My lord, we'll avenge them… those Targaryen bastards will all pay with cold iron."

"Yes, yes… in good time, my friend," eased Lord Stark as he patted Galbart's shoulder. He looked over to the other two lords, who were still strategizing. "Robert, Jon, you remember Lord Glover, don't you?"

"How could I ever forget? Come here, you old bastard!" Jon laughed, briskly walking passed Ned. Lord Arryn shared his own embrace with Galbart, letting go after a moment to see his face. "It's been a while."

"A while, indeed," agreed Glover. "How's the Eyrie, milord?"

"As warm and inviting as ever," chuckled Lord Arryn, as he looked over to Robert, who had already made his way towards the group. "You obviously remember Lord Galbart, as well?"

"Course I have," the burly man declared, shaking Glover's hand, firmly. "You and Lord Rickard took down all those Wildlings in the wolfswood, yes?"

"Sure did, but not without Ned's help, of course," he said as he patted Eddard on the back, the Stark laughing along with him. Ned noticed the boy standing beside them, a little out of the way.

"And who's this?" Ned asked, looking at the young man's face. Gregor was quiet at first, but he cleared his throat and gave the Stark an acceptable response, although a touch of nervousness was still stirring within him. This was the great Lord Stark he was talking to, after all.

"Gregor Forrester, son of Lord Thorren of Ironrath," the boy got out. "It's an honor to be in your presence, sir."

Lord Eddard, a bit flattered but also humble, patted young Forrester on his shoulder and welcomed him. "Oh, please. The honor's all mine. If I'm right, your father was a little more selfish with the ironwood than his earlier kin, eh?"

This caught Gregor off guard, a bit. Yes, his father kept a lot of ironwood trees for himself, which caused a lot of distrust between House Stark and House Forrester, but he was hoping to fix that relationship before his time had ended. "I'm sorry, sir… but I –"

"Don't worry so much, lad," Robert interrupted with a chuckle, pointing to Gregor's legs. "Your legs are shakin'. You got no quarrel with us, no need to be nervous. What brings you here?"

Relieved, Gregor hoped to gain more of Glover's approval. "I came so I could hopefully be appointed as Lord Glover's squire."

"Ah, something he might need in these desperate times! You've got to prove yourself, though," Jon added. Galbart looked over to Lord Forrester's son, giving him an expression that confirmed his agreement.

"He's right, Gregor. I can't go around making anyone my squire. I need to see what you have to offer," Galbart admitted. "You seem like you're a resourceful young lad, and if you can back that up, I'll gladly let you squire in my stead."

"And how do I do that?" Gregor asked, not trying to sound inexperienced. Robert heard this and walked over to the map table.

"Only one way you can." Robert firmly set his right elbow down on one end of the table, motioning for Jon to join him. "You've got to arm-wrestle. Proves your strength in an instant. Jon, you prepared?"

Lord Arryn walked over and did the same as Robert with his right elbow on the other side of the table, pulling back his sleeves, in the process. "Always have been. Just watch me, Gregor. It's all about leverage."

With a nod from young Forrester, the two friends grasped each other's hands and engaged in a brutal round of arm-wrestling. For a while, Robert seemed to have the upper hand, pushing the Jon's arm closely towards the surface of the elegant table, but just when the young lord started to laugh and get cocky with his approach, Lord Arryn was able to find the best gripping point, slamming back the young Baratheon's arm on the table's surface.

"By winter's chill," Ned laughed as he saw the spectacle of testosterone. "Robert, you've lost your vigor!"

"Fuck off, Stark," grumbled Robert. "I'd like to see you do better, but now it's time for the main event."

Lord Glover looked over to the young Baratheon lord with confusion. "You don't mean to say that _I_ am to do this deed? Do you know how long it's been since the last time I arm-wrestled another man, Robert? At least half of my life, if not more."

"Aye, maybe it's because you're so damned intimidating," laughed Ned, leading the others outside the tent. "Come on, the other banners will want to see this."

The banners were all brought outside, with drinks and laughs abound, to see the great Galbart Glover arm-wrestle the somewhat unknown heir to the Forrester lordship. The two were seated across from one another at a wooden tale placed near the center of camp, which was where the fight would occur. The crowd was situated around the table, causing voices to be heard in all directions. Among those who attended the event on that day stood the likes of Roose Bolton, Lord of the Dreadfort, and Robert's younger brother, Stannis. Glover, who at first was a little reluctant to participate in this rather adolescent affair, quickly got into the mood of things, while Gregor eased up a great deal, not wanting to let his father down because of a nervous attitude. Before the fight started, the booming voice of Robert Baratheon called out to the crowed, as the man it belonged to stood on the table that separated Galbart and Gregor.

"My friends, you've all been gathered here to witness a wondrous event!" the young lord shouted, proclaiming himself the announcer for the fight.

"When did Robert have a knack for showmanship?" Eddard quietly laughed to Lord Arryn, who shrugged alongside him. They were both watching the fight in the crowd of soldiers, bannermen, and lesser lords.

"I'm here to announce to you all a contest of strength and resilience: on my left, there sits Lord Galbart Glover, a bannerman of House Stark and a friend of our poor Rickard, Gods rest him," announced Robert. As he detailed this first contender, the older, more experienced men in the ranks cheered on for him, and after they had quieted, Robert introduced the opposition. "And on my right, there sits the son of the Keeper of the Ironwood: the up-and-coming Gregor Forrester!"

When this was said, the roar of the younger members of the crowd could be widely heard, and when the applause settled down as the previous one did, Lord Robert continued on. "These two have come together to contend in a hardy arm-wrestling match. Young Forrester here will be fightin' for the privilege of bein' Lord Glover's squire. If the lad wins, he'll be taken up by Galbart, himself, but if he loses… well, he'll just have to scurry his ass back to his daddy in Ironrath then, won't he?"

"Yes, milord," Gregor chuckled as he looked up to the hulking figure.

"Good. Let's get started, then!" Baratheon happily exclaimed as he jumped down from the table. For a man who had just lost his loved one to the son of a mad ruler, Robert was acting a bit more joyful than expected. "Alright men, lay up your arms!"

As the two men plopped their dominant arms on the wooden table, with their elbows against the surface, a soft chuckle swept across the crowd. Robert had clearly made a good joke.

"Gods," Arryn face-palmed as he nudged Ned Stark with his elbow. "We're never gonna let that one go away anytime soon, are we?"

"Lock your palms!" Robert ordered, which they quickly did, but before Lord Baratheon gave the word to start the bout, Galbart leaned over the table a bit, quietly speaking to the younger man.

"Good luck to you, son," wished he. The rooting, hooting and hollering of the crowd had grown louder with time.

"And to you, Lord Glover. May the best man win," nodded Gregor. After Robert saw the small talk between the two, he issued his commands. At this point, the majority of the crowd had shifted their favor over to Lord Galbart. Not many of those in attendance truly believed a young man such as Gregor could best the strength of a hardened soldier like Galbart, although Forrester did have his followers.

"And… fight!"

The veins in both men's arms tensed up as they applied pressure against one another. For what seemed like an eternity, the arms of each opponent relatively stayed in the same place, which made it appear as if each man's strength had met its match, but this would not be the case for long. Lord Glover quickly gained a stronger grip against the boy, and just before Gregor's arm would meet the surface of the wooden table, the young man remembered what Lord Arryn had said to him earlier:

" _It's all about leverage._ "

When this came to Gregor's mind, he gained his bearings, balancing the weight of his grip in order to shift it into a position that best suited his needs, and stopped his arm from getting slammed against the table like Robert's did on the one in the Stark tent. Instead, he used the grip he had shifted into to push against Galbart's arm in a much easier fashion than the way he had tried to earlier in the fight. The crowd at this point was starting to die down, but when they saw young Gregor Forrester fight back against the lord, they knew that they were in for a treat. The men who were previously there came back to the rest of the mass, restoring the crowd to its former, raging glory. Many of the men chanted alongside Gregor's valiant efforts to push back against Lord Glover, shouting the name of what the sigil of House Forrester portrayed.

"Ironwood! Ironwood! Ironwood!" they chanted, loudly. As he heard this, the hope in young Gregor's heart fueled his determination, all the while he was pushing against the lord's defensive efforts. Looking Lord Glover directly in the eyes, Lord Thorren's son kept the grip on his arm balanced and organized, and just as the two arms returned to their original, vertical positions, the dreariness in Galbart's eyes let on, and his arm grew weak and flabby, but still held on for dear life. It was soon that the lord thought his energy to be regained, but just when he thought that he could return to the offensive, his arm flew back with a mighty force onto the table, producing a loud 'thud' noise. For a single moment in time, everyone in the encampment grew quiet, until Lord Glover shifted his hand, which was still holding on to Gregor's, into a handshake position, speaking words he deemed honorable. Gregor gladly return the lord's welcoming gesture.

"Gregor Forrester… I now appoint you as the noble squire of House Glover."

The crowd erupted into a massive cheer for the young victor, with the 'ironwood' cheer ringing louder by the second. The rest of the day saw the men who had watched the fight being merry, letting the contentment flow before the coming storm that was the war arrived. During the festivities, Lord Glover approached Gregor and told him to meet him in his tent that night, as there were matters to still be attended to. Forrester waited until nightfall, and did what he was asked. Gregor entered the tent to see Ned, Galbart, and Robert positioned behind the lord's table, the second of which was seated with a pen in hand.

"Ah, Gregor, I'm glad you came." Lord Glover motioned for the young man to take a seat on the other side of the table, which he happily did. The presence of Lord Stark and Lord Baratheon confused Gregor, but he was ever trusting of the lord in which he now served. This did not hinder his nervousness, however. After all, the men standing next to Lord Galbart were two of the most powerful men in the Rebellion, and perhaps even the whole of Westeros, itself.

"H-how may I be of service to you, milord?" the young man asked. Glover dipped his feathery pen in rounded vile of black ink and began to write on the parchment that laid on the table in front of him. It seemed as though he had already written on the paper, a bit.

"Let it be known that this meeting is going strictly off the record," the lord declared as he continued to write. He finished soon after, signing his name and placing the inked pen in the vile that sat nearby. "Gregor, what you did today was a great feat. To best a veteran such as myself in that kind of challenge means you obviously know your strength, but let's face it: arm-wrestling is not what appoints a squire to a lord."

"He's right, Gregor," added Ned. "That was a good display you put on for us today, and we're not saying that it made an impact, but you have to be faced with greater challenges, which is what brings you here."

Gregor knew this moment was coming. He felt it early after the match that a simple arm-wrestle wouldn't cut it to make it among that of Lord Glover's ranks. "I understand, my lords. What is it you ask of me?"

"Simple. Ned and I have been instructed by Lord Arryn to scout a path through the woods for our army. We plan to attack the Targaryen forces from the rear once we've done this task," Robert pitched in and explained. "The thing is, two men aren't going to be attentive enough to spot out a route. We need a third man."

"And you want me to fill the vacancy, I'm guessing?" asked Forrester with an assuming tone.

"Aye, lad," Lord Glover nodded with an expecting glance. "Robert's brother, Stannis, was going to be the one for the job before you came along, but when he saw the arm-wrestling match between us, he gave the position over to you. It'll be a good exercise, and I think you can handle it. If things go sour and sour goes to shit, you'll have two of the finest warriors in the Seven Kingdoms to fight beside you, that much I can promise, Gregor."

"Trust me, we've been on worse missions than this," Eddard explained. Gregor, who wanted the approval of Lord Glover no matter the cost, nodded back to the three men, with Lord Stark getting the confirmation that was needed out of the boy. "So lad, what'll it be?"

"If you'll have me, my lords, then I'd be honored to follow you," the determined young man said, which pleased the rest of the men in the tent.

"Good, now go and gather up what you need," Galbart said as he folded the parchment, placed it in an envelope, and stamped it with his seal. "Send a raven to your father with this in tow. I want him to know what happened on this day."

"And meet us near the edge of the woods in an hour," added Lord Baratheon.

"Aye, sirs." The noble lord handed the letter over to young Forrester, who left the tent alongside Ned and Robert. Gregor then did as Lord Glover had instructed him to, grabbing some supplies and his father's greatsword from his newly-erected tent and sending a raven to his father back in the Forrester homestead, Ironrath. When all of his matters were attended to, the boy headed towards the edge of the forest, only to see Ned and Robert waiting just outside the brush, ever ready for the perils that they may face. The moonlight shone over them, looking as if the Gods had granted them their blessing on this dangerous trek. Gregor had only heard tales of Robert and Ned's bravery, but when he saw them standing outside the forest on that night, he knew that they could tackle almost anything. They may not have been kin, but they were truly brothers of the mind, brothers of the spirit, and brothers-in-arms.


	2. The Wolf, the Stag, and the Tree

**The Seeds of House Forrester: The Wolf, the Stag, and the Tree**

Robert and Ned were joined by Gregor Forrester not long after they came to the edge of the forest that separated their camp from the Targaryen's. Robert was wearing the plate mail of a Baratheon lord, with his house's sigil being visible on the chest of the armor. He held his famous antler-laden helm in his hand, and instead of his signature war hammer, he had a greatsword sheathed at his belt-side. On the other hand, Ned bore the armor of House Stark, with the sword of his ancestors, known as 'Ice', strapped to his back. The wood that lay before them was larger than both of the camps combined, going on for what seemed like endless miles. Before the hopeful squire-to-be made his arrival at the outskirts of the forest, the two young lords were discussing who they might be wedded to in order to strengthen the rebellion, along with being anxious to know more about Gregor and some of his deeds. When the boy approached, Robert greeted him warmly, still carrying his well-known headwear.

"Ah, Gregor!" greeted he as he laid a welcoming hand onto the young Forrester's shoulder. "We were just talking about you. Have you got everything?"

"Yes," Forrester nodded. "And you, milord?"

"Of course, but I'm afraid we're not lords here," Robert answered back, humbly.

"He's right, we're just a few big men with big cocks and big dreams, soon to be surrounded by a horde of Targaryen loyalists," Ned laughed. Lord Stark, although cold and pessimistic at times, had a mild sense of humor that Robert and Jon knew well. Motioning for the other two to start walking through a small, secluded path within the brush, Eddard called out to them. "We'd best be off. We have to gain as much ground as possible before the dawn meets us."

"Agreed," Robert said, in response. "Let's get going."

The three young men began to traverse the narrow path, delving deeper into the forest as they carried on. Ned, who was walking beside Gregor, noticed the sword that was placed in a strap-like sheathe at Forrester's backside, motioning for Robert to join him in examination of the large blade. Lord Baratheon had to know more about Gregor's weapon.

"Ah, what've we got here?" asked Robert, with the young Forrester turning around in confusion. Robert pointed to the sword that was concealed parallel to the young man's body. "Come on, hand it over."

Gregor listened and unsheathed the greatsword at his back. It was massive – a true weapon of war – and was passed down through many generations of hardy Forrester men. Both Ned and Robert looked at the marvelous weapon with awe, though they tried to keep themselves reserved. Forrester handed the sword to Ned, who stood back from the others and maneuvered it through the air like a child with its play-thing. Looking at the old, refined edges, Ned knew in an instant the components of the weapon.

"It's made of Valyrian steel," Stark examined, handing the sword off to Robert, who also tested its mechanics. "How did your family end up having this?"

"An ancestor of mine found it in the ruins of Old Valyria," answered the young Forrester. "If I'm right, it's not unlike your sword."

"Oh, Ice?" Ned said quickly as he took his sword out of the strap at his backside. Ice was even bigger than Gregor's sword, although it had a similar structure. Stark examined the blade of his ancestors as he had a thousand times before, noticing the similarities between the two swords. "You'd be right. The sword you've got is similar to mine in both composure and looks. I'll bet they were fashioned by the same smith."

Ned put his sword away while Robert gave Gregor back his family sword. The three trekked on for a while, hoping to eventually find a place to make camp. The two lords continued conversing about the rebellion and how it would be strengthened by alliances, marriages, numbers and those sorts of things. Some of these concepts were all but unknown to Gregor, although his father had taught him a thing or two about alliances and the ties that marriage can produce.

"So, Gregor… do you have a wife yet?" Ned inquired as they walked. This question was something that he hoped wouldn't be asked of him, because the answer would surely signal his distrust among the Rebellion's leaders. Forrester had to be committed, however, and he had to tell the truth.

"Yes, I'm betrothed," Gregor admitted. "Her name's Elissa Branfield."

When the young man said this, Ned tensed up and gradually slowed his pace. Robert looked infuriated, and Gregor knew that it might soon be his time. House Branfield was a minor Southron family of nobles, a family who was allied to one house, and one house alone. Robert pushed Forrester up against a large tree, forcing his sword upon the young man's neck, in the process.

"The Branfields… fucking Targaryen loyalists?!" Robert growled with a deep, stern tone. Gregor was scared half to death by Robert's aggressive act, trying to explain himself through Roberts excessive yelling. "What are you trying to pull on us? Got something planned for us lot, eh?"

Ned, although uncertain of his friend's handling of the situation, began to question the young man, as well. Robert had been getting angry, but Stark calmed him down a bit and got him to take the sword off of Gregor's neck, though Robert still clenched tightly with both hands. Gregor was still partly in shock, for he had never been threatened to this extent before, especially not be someone as brute-like and hardy as Robert Baratheon.

"We… We're not allied to them!" panted Gregor. "We captured their daughter and her brother! They were headed to Castle Black from –"

"Why would a couple of slimy Southron crown-lovers be fuckin' around in the North?" Robert yelled, with anger in his heart. Ned tried to calm his friend down some more, hoping to make this dispute a bit more solvable, even though Forrester was reluctant to speak more on the subject, at first.

"Look, Gregor, we obviously can't carry on without knowing more," Lord Eddard said. "If you're getting married to a Targaryen loyalist, how do we know you're not one, as well? You should honestly tell us everything, or else we'll have to do something we really don't want to do… or at least something I wouldn't want to do. I've no clue about Robert's wishes."

"Alright, I'll come clean," Forrester admitted. "Now what I said earlier was the truth – Elissa and her brother, Malcolm, were on their way to Castle Black. Malcolm was going to join the Night's Watch, and Elissa wanted to see the Wall."

"Who in Seven Hells goes with their brother when he's about to take the black?" speculated the Baratheon lord.

"Robert, let him finish," Ned advised. With a groan under his breath, Ned's friend fell silent.

"Father thought it was odd, also," Gregor explained as he cleared his throat. His voice was hoarse from the shouting, but it was nothing that made it sound too unclear. "Our castellan and I caught them riding north when we were hunting near our godswood. They admitted to being loyal to the royal house, but this was before Rhaegar confessed his love for your sister, Ned, bless her heart. What happened at Harrenhal changed everyone."

"How long ago was this?" questioned Lord Stark, stroking his beard.

"Two years," the young man continued. "We were always suspicious of the crown, but never enough to make the two suffer. Malcolm was interrogated, but nothing came of it. We held them in Ironrath for eight months, but not against their will. They enjoyed the environment, and wanted to settle there for a while. Malcolm was never one for his own home, and Elissa had always been conflicted about the allegiances of her house. Elissa and I became good friends, while she started to fall in love with me, and I to her. Father let them go in hopes that they would give us inside information on the loyalties of their house and perhaps even the crown."

"And have they?" Robert asked with a tone of slight disbelief, while Gregor shook his head in acknowledgement.

"Elissa sends a raven to me every so often," explained Gregor. "She says that her family hasn't been the same since what happened at Harrenhal. All they do is spew insults at the North and the Eyrie and the folk at Storm's End. They even like to shit on the Lannisters."

Ned looked to Robert as if he believed what the boy was saying, though he seemed like he needed just a bit more information. "And what of Malcolm?"

"She says he's trying to stay out of the family politics," answered the young man. "But there's only so much he can avoid. Elissa thinks he's doing his best, but she hasn't spoken of him much. In all honesty, she says that her family has shunned them both to an extent for letting a Northern house take them in. I… I think she wants to leave."

"We might have the chance," hoped Ned as he looked to Robert for agreement. "It really just depends on where their homestead is. If we plan an attack, we'll have to make sure to get her to safety."

"We'll be killed if we're not prepared. We could take her in the night before the battle starts, but we'll have to be careful." Robert warned. "You've won my trust for now, but if you even think about planning something against us, I'll cut your balls off."

Now that the two men had finally come to believe him, Gregor looked relieved. "Thank you. I would never plan anything against either of you. You're both honorable men, and I'd fight alongside you in any instance."

Suddenly, several rustles were heard throughout the wooded area around the three men. They looked around, pulling out their swords in case the movement through the brush was that of the enemy's. The sound of leaves, branches, and grass moving against surfaces became louder and louder over the next few seconds.

"Targaryen troops," Robert whispered. "I can smell 'em."

The three allies backed against each other in the form of a triangle, fortifying each other on nearly all sides. When the squad of five Targaryen soldiers came out of the darkness, they were shocked by who they were up against, but were able to surround Ned, Robert, and Gregor in the form of a circle.

"Well, isn't this a pleasant surprise?" spoke the apparent leader through a thick Southron accent. He was walking a little out of formation, which was a sign of this squad being under his command. "We've got a pup, a little pig, and... you are?"

The leader of the group looked at Gregor with a sort of sinister curiosity while he approached the trio of fighters, though Ned tried to distract him with his cold words. "He's not of your concern. If you come any closer, we'll rip you all to pieces."

"You really think you can take on all of us?" the leader laughed as the soldiers moved in closer. Robert and Ned examined their opposition, waiting for the first attack to come. Gregor was initially frightened, but he mustered his courage and balanced his focus on the enemies that stood before him. Being his first fight, this situation reminded him of his father's wise words when he was still in training.

" _Never attack first, son. Let the enemy think he can win, and then shove it up his noble ass._ "

It seemed as though the other two men fighting beside Gregor had the same strategy in mind, for when the attacks from the soldiers came, they fought defensively. Swords flew towards them like a stampede, but the two lords were full of stamina and strength, even though they were being attack by three men at the same time. Gregor, on the other hand, had to deal with two attackers at once, a field of combat that he had only delved into mildly during his teachings. What he had learned, however, was enough to keep him in the fight, and when the man to his left began to tire, Gregor swiped at his legs with his ancient greatsword, followed by his belly, alongside blocking the blows that the soldier to his right. It was almost like following the rhythm of a song, in that a beat had to be performed effectively in order to keep the rest of the song in order. Thankfully, Gregor was decent at the marching drums. Block after block and slash after slash, Gregor gradually was able to take the upper hand. By the time he had dropped both men, Ned and Robert had taken the two of the three men's lives in front of them. All that was left was the leader of the Targaryen scout troop. With Ice pointed at the official's neck, Ned began to question him coldly.

"What's your name, filth?" Stark interrogated. The man had little respect for the northern lord, spitting at his face. Ned then pressed the tip of Ice up against the man's jugular vein, speaking again with a more impatient tone. "If you try that again, this sword will go through your neck. Or should I have Robert make you a eunuch?"

"Oh, I'd love to have the pleasure," Baratheon laughed as he started to take off the man's lower armor. "I'll bet he doesn't need his manhood anyway. Just look at the man's poor face! Even a whore wouldn't take the chance of fucking _that_."

"Stop! Alright, you bastards, I'll talk!" cried the man. He couldn't speak too loud, or else Ice would pierce his neck. "My name is Fayne… Fayne Branfield."

"Seven Hells, a Branfield!" yelled Robert, as he stood. "We're in luck's grasp, then."

"Right," Gregor said as he shook his head. He approached the grounded man with vigor in his heart. "Tell us where your homestead is."

"What's so important about _my_ home?" Fayne coughed. "You've got no business there?"

"The only business you need to worry about is that kind that's keeping you alive," threatened Ned as he cut down Fayne's right shoulder with Ice. Despite the sword's name, the wounds burned the Branfield deeply, causing him to spill out the location of his family's homestead.

"My family lives not but a day's walk west of here. On horse it's about half the time, now please! I promise… I'll not go back to the camp, just have mercy," pleaded the man. Robert had Ned step aside for a moment so he could look at the man face-to-face.

"The Gods may show you mercy, but not I. For treasons against the free people of Westeros in service of the Mad King Aerys Targaryen, I now sentence you to death," declared the lord. As the defenseless man pleaded, Robert took out his greatsword, prayed, and swung the great weapon through the loyalist's neck, separating the head from the body in a horrific spew of blood and gore. Ned and Gregor looked on in agreement, and just after Robert executed the man, another voice was heard.

"Master? Master w-where are you?" it echoed.

Each man looked equally confused, for the voice didn't sound like a normal soldier, but rather an adolescent boy. The owner of the voice appeared out of a dense thicket behind Forrester, looking at Fayne's decapitated corpse with both surprise and intrigue. He was brown-haired ragged, but with a slightly-muscular tone, looking to be just a few years younger than Gregor. On his back lay what looked like a hundred pounds of supplies and equipment, though the boy quickly let it loose after seeing his dead 'master'. Gregor pulled out his sword and pointed it to the boy, acting a bit unsure if the boy could be trusted or not.

"Who are you, and why were you calling Fayne your master?" Forrester asked. The boy was still worn out from carrying such a heavy load.

"I was forced to serve Fayne so I could keep my family safe," he said. "My name's Duncan Tuttle."


End file.
